Scarred
by m.sharkbait.4444
Summary: "He jumped- tree to tree, shadow to shadow. Never stopping, always moving forward. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't stop- if he did, White would win. He couldn't let that happen. If White won, they'd all die. Each and every one of them." AU
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Ranger's Apprentice belongs to John Flanagan and blah blah blah. There, I said the disclaimer.**

**AN: PLEASE READ!**

**Warnings: AU (EXTREMLY!), OCs (one of them is a main character…), **_**mild**_** swearing, and AU. I needed to repeat that because this story is an Alternate Universe.**

**If you want to know more about this universe, check my profile… I can't list all the info here because 1: that's self advertising, and 2: it would take up WAY to much space.**

**Now you can read the story. **

Alyss looked around the room sadly. There, on the small table, sat that damned letter. How was she to believe what its contents said? How _could_ she believe what the letter said? How can you believe something that was so terrible and sad and horrible? How?

Lady Pauline touched her hand to Alyss' arm. Instantly, the young woman jerked her arm away. Pressure was building up in her eyes, and before Alyss could stop them, a tear slid down her cheek. Pauline quickly wrapped her protégé in a hug, allowing the young woman to cry without the others seeing. She continued to rock the young Courier back and forth, muttering comforting words.

Across the room, a Ranger sat silently. He had no sarcastic comments, no grim humor, no raised eyebrows, just a look of disbelief. Knowing what would come, he pulled his hood up and over his head, leaving only his mouth visible. On his right cheek, sliding slowly was a drop of water- a tear to be precise.

For the first time, Pauline saw her husband cry. She gestured for him to come closer, so she could comfort both of them. It was to be expected after all. The three had just received the worst letter anyone could ever receive. They didn't even finish the letter- they just read the first sentence and stopped. _"The Chocho is dead."_

They didn't continue. The one sentence was enough for them. They didn't want to hear about their friend's death or anything else. They just needed that one sentence.

They should've finished the letter.

They would've known more information.

They would've known that the letter was fake.

(\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\)

_Dear friends,_

_The Chocho is dead. _

_He went missing on the fifth of this month. A Senshi confirmed that he was dead after a week of searching. _

_You should know he was awake before he went missing. He talked with me, played with me, practiced with me, and sang with me._

_I am sorry for your loss, he missed you and was excited to come home, but now he truly is home. He will be with you again, always remember that._

_I am sorry,_

_Shigeru_

(\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\)

You see, Emperor Shigeru's letter would've had the royal seal at the bottom. His hand writing was different. But, the three were so concerned about the first sentence; they didn't realize that the hand writing belonged to someone who'd written in the common tongue all their life. Instead of finishing the letter, they threw it into the fire, not wanting to reply.

Alyss remembered that day all too clearly… the day the arrow took _him_ away from her. She couldn't say his name… it was too hard… too difficult. _He _ was just… _he._ _He_ wasn't _Will_ or _Chocho._ _He _was just _he._

And the day she lost _him_ was one she'd never forget…

(\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\)

_Ariska lay dead in front of the crouched figure known as Will Treaty. Will took a few deep breaths before standing to his full height. But before he could do anything else, and arrow was fired directly at him from less than four meters away. Will was instantly knocked back down to the ground. He lay on his back while the arrow protruded the center of his chest._

_Halt O'Carrick saw a man running through Ariska's ranks, trying to get away. With anger burning his heart, Halt ran towards the running bowman. If anything angered the grizzled Ranger, it was hurting his apprentice. Halt stormed off towards the bowman, an arrow already nocked onto his bow string._

_Alyss Mainwaring found herself sprinting faster than Horace or Cassandra as she tried to reach her fallen lover. After what seemed like forever, she reached his fallen form. "Will…" She whispered. His eyes drifted towards her as she gripped his hand. "Don't go to sleep!" She demanded as his eyes slowly drifted closed. "Will! Don't go to sleep!" She screamed this time. Now, Will's eyes were staring at the sky, blinking open and closed. _

_He didn't move, he didn't fuss, and even after Horace removed the arrow from his chest, he still stared at the sky blankly. "Will!" Alyss demanded. "Speak to me!" She said as he continued to stare at the sky. Finally, his hand moved towards her face. "Don't go to sleep… don't go to sleep… don't die…" Alyss whispered as his hand caressed her face._

_Next to her, Halt watched his young apprentice. No one knew what to do. There was no healer that was trained enough to handle Will's injury. And Ariska's men may not be exactly loyal considering the man who'd done this to Will had been under Ariska's command. "Halt…" Horace's voice whispered. "What do we do?" He asked._

"_I don't know." Halt answered after a few moments. "He's not going to make it on a trip home." Halt told the four young people. The Emperor entered their conversation, a solution on the tip of his tongue. _

"_I'll take him to Ito. There, he can recover and when ready, return home." Shigeru said with a sad smile. "It may be the only option we have, Halto-san." _

"_I know…" Halt replied. "Just… make sure he lives."_

Alyss remembered what Halt had told Shigeru. _Make sure he lives._ "He… he said that he'd make sure _he'd_ live…" Alyss whispered. Pauline continued to rock the young woman. "The Emperor promised… he promised that _he'd_ come home…"

"Alyss… there are some things in the world we can't control. No matter what, there's always going to be a promise that can't be kept." Pauline began. "Will has laid down his bow, he's hung of his boots, he's up there with God and he's watching over you. He's been laid down in that field on the edge of town. His soul has gone where we always preyed that it would go.

"Will is already home." Pauline finished. Alyss couldn't stop the tears that glistened down her cheeks at the mention of _his_ name.

(\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\)

_Clomnel, Hibernia, three months later_

Two men sat in the back of King Sean's court. They were an odd pair- one was a little shorter than average while the other was a bit taller than average. One had dark brown hair while the other had pale blonde hair. One had deep brown eyes that's gaze unnerved people, while the other had bright green eyes that looked friendly.

But, they also had many similarities.

For one, they had the same purpose in life- to protect the Kingdom of Araluen at all costs- even if it meant their life.

Two, they both were believed dead.

Their names were Will Treaty and John Blunt, and both had business to tend to.

(\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\)

**Alright, I know that this is… short… but this is only a prologue. **_**Hero**_** will be on hold until I finish this- only because I have ideas burning in my mind for this story.**

**Now, I need you all to pretend that Will had already proposed to Alyss- it fits the story line a LOT better…**

**Updates should be weekly and possibly daily… and maybe even monthly. It all depends on my schedule with school and such.**

**-Sharkbait**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: two words: not mine.**

**AND INTERNET RETURNS! (YAAAAAAAY!) No joke, this is the first time in about two weeks that I've had internet access. **

**I forgot to mention in the last chapter that there would be a time skip of 3 years. That's when the actual story takes place. **

**Warnings: AU, OCs, violence, **_**mild**_** swearing**

**Pairings: Will/Alyss, a bit of Halt/Pauline, and an ounce of Horace/Cassandra (and maybe some Gilan/Jenny)**

**Now, read on!**

_3 years later_

There's almost never a time to be happy in during war. After all… war is war. Soldiers fight and try to kill each other while lawyers, diplomats, and scribes scrabble over the 'fine details' of it all. Knights train simple farmers to destroy each other while families cower in their basement. Assassins break into palaces, trying to kill lords and ladies.

This war was no exception.

Picta wanted its land back. Araluen didn't plan on giving the land back.

From a soldier's point of view, the war would be considered a squabble- nothing compared to the battle with Morgarath.

From a Courier with no intense battle experience's point of view, it was the bloodiest thing she'd ever seen. The snow covering the battle ground wasn't completely white- it had splotches of red here and there, bodies littered the ground. If anything, the Courier would rather be back in Redmont surrounded by the annoying scribes who were determined to find a legal solution to the war.

Then again, anyone would rather be back in Redmont with the scribes.

(/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\)

Alyss Mainwaring followed her escort through the trees. They were to escort her to the battle grounds- she was a valuable diplomat, after all. Baron Arald of Redmont had requested her presence, much to Alyss' dismay. Who would ever want to become a part of war?

"Lady Alyss," One of the men at arms began, "we are an hour's ride to the camp."

"Thank you." Alyss responded. She knew the man's name, but couldn't bring herself to say the name. All it would do was bring back the heartbreak she still felt. The man nodded, understanding why Alyss didn't say his name. Then again, there were quite a few Rangers who didn't say his name either. They all called him by his last name.

Finally, knowing that it would be polite, Alyss said the man at arms name. "Thank you… Will…"

Will jumped at Lady Alyss saying his name. When he'd told Lady Alyss his name the first time, he instantly saw sadness in her eyes. She'd never said his name before. "Lady Alyss, please… just call me Cliff. I don't want to cause any hurt to your feelings." Cliff told her.

Alyss nodded and continued her ride in silence.

(\/\/\/\/\/\/\/)

John Blunt ran through the trees, trying to find the escort. He'd run away from the rest of his group- he had a promise to keep, after all. And this promise was one that Blunt couldn't bring himself to break.

"Damn…" Blunt muttered under his breath as he did his best to track the small group. "That's what you get for cutting corners. Should've just followed Will's advice and followed the tracks the right way…" Blunt continued his lowered argument with himself. "Then again, I'm in a hurry."

Blunt continued his search, which paid off. The five horses were heading north- towards the Araluen camp. "Better hurry, John, better hurry." Blunt said to himself before racing through the trees- as quiet as he could. "Should've listened more to Will when he was talking about that Ranger nonsense…" Blunt continued his half minded mutter.

That's when he heard the scream. "The scream YOU were supposed to stop!" Blunt muttered to himself before racing through the trees. Being silent was not important as Blunt blundered towards the scream, not caring if he alerted the hidden Scotti men in the trees.

(\/\/\/\/\/\/\/)

Alyss did her best to stop her scream as one of the men in her escort fell from his saddle. The other horses whinnied in worry while the remaining men at arms unsheathed their swords. "Who goes there?" Cliff shouted. He dived from his horse as he heard the sound of a cross bow bolt being released.

Alyss followed his example and dove for the ground.

Seven Scotti men moved from the trees. They circled the group and raised their swords in challenge. "Stop!" Cliff commanded at them. The Scotti shrugged, and charged.

. . .

Blunt looked over the clearing. Alyss' escort was badly outnumbered three to seven. "Let's even the odds, ey?" He asked no one. Realization dawned on Blunt. There was no one behind him to answer. He felt sadness tug at his heart, and threw his first knife at one of the Scotti men.

There was a clash of swords followed by a knife thumping into a Scotti man's back. He grunted, and fell forward. The man who'd been fighting him jumped in surprise, only for a Scotti behind him to slash at him. He grunted and fell in a heap on top of the fallen Scotti. A knife struck the Scotti man who'd killed the first, leaving him dead.

All in all, there was a pattern: Blunt throws a knife, killing a Scotti. The man the Scotti was fighting would be surprised, then killed by another Scotti… who dies three seconds later by Blunt's knife.

Soon, Cliff and two Scotti men were left standing. Alyss cowered in the trees, praying for Cliff's safety. Her prayers, though, were useless. He fought well, only for one of his opponents to cut him down.

Blunt chose that moment to reveal himself. He jumped from the tree, landing with a thud on the forest floor. "If you take on more step towards her, you'll be dead before that step is finished." He called to the Scotti who were beginning to circle Alyss. They turned in surprise to see one man holding a small throwing knife in his hand. They raised their eyebrows in question, believing that one man would not be able to defeat them.

This was a mistake many before them had made.

One man took a step, and as Blunt said, was dead midstride. He grunted, and slumped to the side. Blunt cocked his eyebrow at the other. "Take one more step, and you're dead." He repeated. The man, being a Scotti who couldn't speak Araluen, took a step.

He too died at the hands of Blunt's deadly accuracy.

"You can come out, my Lady." Blunt called to Alyss, who'd been hiding in the trees throughout the ordeal. "You all right?" Blunt asked- his grammar faltering. Alyss nodded, not saying anything. _Who was this man?_ Herself conscious asked. Blunt's eyebrow moved up in a Ranger type fashion- something he'd learned after months with a Ranger. His expression said this: _I can tell what you're thinking. If you have something to say, say it._

"Who… are you?" She asked finally.

"Friends call me Blunt." He replied.

"What are you doing here?"

"Saving you."

"I didn't need to be saved."

Blunt laughed- as in a 'you've got to be kidding me,' type laugh. "My rear end-" Blunt said, remembering he was in the presence of a Lady, and an old friend's friend, "Apparently you haven't seen the ten dead bodies lying behind me. Pretty sure you needed to be saved." He replied. His tone was joking, but there was truth to his words.

"Then now you can lead me to the Araluen camp." Alyss told him. Blunt's eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"Can't," he finally said. "Too many Scotti men in the trees. A few have a record to set with an old friend of yours, and would gladly take revenge." Instead of Blunt's eyebrow shooting up in question, Alyss' shot up.

"Old friend? Who?" She asked.

"You sound like him. He always managed find a way to ask two questions at once." Blunt told her before spinning around on his heel.

Forgetting the 'Old friend' part of their conversation, Alyss hurried after him. "Where are you going? What do you do- save a lady and then leave her to die?" She asked. Blunt sighed.

"Yep, you're just like him. Look, you've got two options. Option 1: come with me and I'll escort you back to Redmont where they can arrange for some larger party to take you to the Araluen camp. Option 2: Stay here while _I_ go back to Redmont and report back to my boss. Your choice, either way, I'm leaving now." He replied and continued walking through the forest.

Alyss, seeing it as her only option, ran after him quickly. _Sometimes it's best to take a change rather than follow common sense…_ she thought to herself. After all, as far as she was concerned, she was following some stranger home.

**Alright, I know this chapter isn't top quality. I typed this up, did my best to edit it, and published it. I had to publish it NOW because internet has been off and on here. That… plus I didn't have too long before school would butt in. I think the beginning was good… but then it went downhill from there. **

**You got to understand, I get internet every… I don't know- maybe two, three weeks. If I didn't update now, You'd have to wait a good month.**

**If you've got any suggestions- they would be **_**deeply**_** appreciated. I'm **_**hoping**_** that I can get the next chapter out by next Friday. Pay attention to '**_**hoping.' **_**I do have another life off a fanfiction that needs to be lived…**

**-Sharkbait**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: The Ranger's Apprentice and its characters belong to Mr. John Flanagan. John Blunt and the story line belong to me- but not by much…**

**Homework, no internet… gosh it's a pain at times.**

**Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I was supposed to update on Friday… I just never got around to it. So instead, I'll **_**attempt**_** to post a chapter tomorrow and maybe- **_**maybe**_**- I might post one Sunday night as well. It just depends on whether I'm busy or not.**

**Read on!**

_John Blunt wandered the village of Harpstown. The Leader had sent him to Clomnel of all places. His goal: King Sean's court at the castle of Dun Kilty. "This is a waste of time…" He muttered to himself. "Might as well leave Sean to his kingdom. Let him fight his own battle. We serve Duncan and only Duncan."John muttered to himself._

"_Stop him!" John heard the yells of guards, followed by a child crying. John turned to see a young man running towards him. The man's brown eyes glinted in the light, making them look dark and almost black. "Stop him!" The guard repeated. The running man kept running- his cloak waving in the wind._

_John studied the man further. The green grey cloak on the man seemed to blend in the back ground. A quiver of arrows was slung over his shoulder. A double scabbard containing two knives at the man's hip. Something was biting at John's mind. One thing put the puzzle together. A long bow, slung across the man's shoulders. "He's a Ranger…" John muttered to himself._

_Instead of stopping the running man, John stopped the guard chasing the man. Curiosity got the best of John, and knowing every guard in town would be on his trail, he followed the Ranger._

"_Wait!" John called to the Ranger. "I can help you! Please, Ranger! Stop!" The Ranger slowed and turned his head to see John._

_The Ranger quickly unslung his bow from his shoulders, and drew and arrow from his quiver. He nocked it into place, but didn't pull the string back. "Who goes there?"The Ranger called. His voice sounded young, but deep. The voice had a hint of a cold edging it from hard nights sleeping in abandoned barns._

"_John Blunt, I work for his majesty King Duncan. Please, lower your weapon." John called to the Ranger. "What is your name, Ranger?" He asked._

_The Ranger looked around uncertainly. "My name is Will, but I am no Ranger… or at least not anymore."_

Blunt woke from his dream. "That wasn't any dream… that's a memory you idiot." Blunt muttered to himself. The camp fire was still going, providing little warmth to Blunt and Alyss. She lay on the other side of the fire, curled up in a wool blanket. Blunt could hear her soft snoring. "Good thing you didn't wake her up…" He muttered to himself.

"After all, I made Will a promise." Blunt stated before attempting return to the land of dreams… and memories.

The land of dreams didn't welcome him, and he sat around the campfire in the dark night.

(/\/\/\/\/\/\) 

_She felt cold. Physically, she was warmer than most people in the freezing room. But mentally, she felt cold. She didn't want to listen to Baron Arald persecute someone who supposedly shot…_ him._ She didn't want to hear about _his_ death again. It only brought back the hurt._

"_Bring in the prisoner…" Baron Arald stated. He sounded as if it hurt him to say that. Then again, most people in the room felt hurt. This prisoner had killed _him.

_The prisoner had the almond shaped eyes of most Nihon-Jan people. His skin was pale from weeks in the dungeon. He was thinner- Baron Arald made sure that there was enough food to keep prisoners healthy, but this prisoner had tried to starve himself. The prisoner didn't want to be persecuted. The man was in chains and wore ragged clothing. _Die in hell,_ Alyss thought to herself._

"_My lord, the prisoner responsible for the death of Will Treaty." The guard on the left of the prisoner stated. Alyss felt her heart clench as the guard said _his_ name. Next to her, she could hear Lady Pauline comforting Ranger Halt. Ranger Crowley sat to Halt's left, his face marking nothing but disgust. Behind her, Horace was breathing normally, but Alyss could still hear the sadness in each breath. Jenny and Gilan were a few rows behind Horace, comforting each other. Even George, one of their ward mates, attended the small occasion. _

_Alyss turned to see two other people in the room. One had pale blonde hair and bright green eyes. He looked average height when sitting down. Next to him, there was what Alyss presumed a Ranger. The hood on the Ranger's head was pulled all the way up. A shadow kept Alyss from seeing any details of the man's face, she only knew he was short for the average man._

_Anyone looking at the pair would think that the blonde man was the leader out of the two. Alyss knew better. The Ranger was the leader, hiding from view. She could tell by the way they sat. Whenever the two men talked, the blonde one asked questions to the Ranger who answered. Alyss could tell by reading the blonde's lips. "Is that… him?" The blonde man asked. The Ranger shook his head 'no' in reply._

_Alyss heard Halt murmur something to Pauline. "That's not the man who shot Will." He said._

"_What do you mean?" Pauline asked in return._

"_The man who shot Will died with an arrow through his throat." Halt replied. Alyss shuddered at the picture: a Nihon-Jan man with a black shafted arrow running through his esophagus- not a pretty picture._

_Alyss returned her gaze to the two men in back. The blonde man was moving his lips differently, making it difficult for her to read his lips. But there was one word that she understood. "Will."_

Alyss sat up in her sleep. Blunt was sitting across from the fire, wide awake. His blonde hair was ruffled, showing signs of sleep. "What are you doing awake?" She asked. Blunt raised an eyebrow at her before answering.

"I could ask you that myself." He replied.

"Bad dream…" She murmured after a few moments.

"That makes two of us." Blunt replied. The campfire reflected in his green eyes. Something clicked in Alyss' mind as she stared at Blunt. He had the same hair and eyes as the man from the court room. As she studied him further, she was positive it was him. "Will you stop staring at me?" He asked in a rather blunt tone.

"Y-you were in the court room two years ago." She stuttered in a very undiplomatic tone.

"And you were the pretty blonde staring at me and my friend. Your point?" He asked.

"What were you doing there? And who was the Ranger sitting with you?" Blunt's facial expression saddened, then darkened at the mention of the Ranger.

"It doesn't matter; that business is taken care of and the man is dead." Blunt replied softly.

. . .

A figure clad in the greens and browns of a Ranger road hard through the night. His horse was tired from exhaustion, but knew that his owner was doing his best to find shelter for the night. Rain poured heavily, drenching the rider, his horse, and the landscape around them. The rain fell hard and felt like needles piercing your skin when it touched the rider. It came down in sheets, making it almost impossible to see a meter in front of him.

Lighting cracked on the barren, snow covered ground. The lighting sent streaks across the sky and its landscape, giving some light to see. The rain had made everything look black in the night. The rider padded his horse gently, muttering comforting words to his worried steed. The rider's cowl covered his face, hiding all his features.

"Come on, boy." The rider whispered. His voice was deep and fake; it sounded as if it weren't the rider's real voice. The rider was hiding a secret beneath that voice. "We're almost there…" He bent down and whispered in his horse's ear. The horse neighed in reply, but the sound was lost in the wind of the storm. The rider urged his horse farther, trying to reach the tall mountain and its secured caves. "Once there, it'll be nice and dry. We'll light a fire, dry our clothing, and maybe even make some coffee." The rider whispered in his horse's ear again.

Once again, the horse whinnied in reply.

Once again, the reply was lost in the dark of the storm.

. . .

Halt stared at the messenger expectantly. The petite man had a look of absolute fear on his face as he stared into the dark eyes of a Ranger. He opened his mouth many times to speak, but no sound erupted from his vocal chords. "I-I-I… h-h-his… m-m-majesty-" The messenger attempted. Halt sighed in annoyance and rolled his eyes.

"Yes?" He asked. The messenger gulped, and took another try at talking.

"His Majesty, K-king Duncan would like to s-speak to you." He spook before running. The man acted like Halt was planning to slice him to bits.

_There, now was that so hard?_ Halt thought to himself as the small man ran off. Halt sighed, then began the hike up the steep, dirt covered hill, whilst rain drizzled- which made mud, which made the hike even harder **(1)**. _Duncan better have something good to say. That or he better have coffee._ Halt thought to himself.

The Royal tent loomed on the hill's crest. It was made out of the same fabric everyone else's tent was made of, but was slightly taller and much larger. It had to be, considering that's where all the battle planning was done. The Royal family, Sir David, Sir Rodney, Horace, Crowley, Baron Arald, a few others, and Halt all had to fit inside the tent. The tent was set up into three rooms; one for King Duncan, one for Princess Cassandra and Horace, and the third room was a large central area with a fire for warmth and a table for planning.

All in all, it wasn't the most luxurious state of affairs, but it would do for the King's living courters and command center.

Halt was nearly at the top of the hill. Outside, there were a few pale faces of Couriers. Halt couldn't stop his eyebrow from shooting up as he realized that they were all Redmont Couriers. _What in the blazes is going on?_

Halt pushed back the flaps of the command tent and entered. King Duncan, Horace, Sir David, and Baron Arald were all arguing over the positioning of _sentries…_

"Halt!" Horace said in a relieved tone as he saw the older man enter.

"What in the world is going on?" Halt asked. His hand gestured for the little wooden figures of sentries and the Couriers outside the tent.

"The escort for Lady Alyss was ambushed. They were all found dead- and she wasn't there."Arald stated flatly. _Alyss?_ Halt asked himself. Halt's face softened at the mention of the young Courier. She was one of the few people who could bring the grumpy old Ranger to a smile.

"Who ambushed them?" Halt asked.

"Picta," This time, Duncan spoke. "This is my kingdom we're talking about, so I'd like to have a share of this conversation." His facial features said it all: his kingdom was under attack, and he wanted to fix it. That, plus he was frustrated by the fact that a valuable Diplomat may or may not be dead.

"And I'm here, why?" Halt asked.

"You have the best knowledge when it comes to placing sentries. We need to have them positioned around the camp- just in case of an attack." Duncan spoke again.

Halt nodded, conceding the point. It wouldn't be good for the Scotti to attack during the night. Many Araluen soldiers would be caught in pajamas and without their weapons. Halt peered onto the table displaying the map of the Araluen camp.

"Place sentries a little over twenty meters apart from each other, and have their shifts changed every three hours. Have Crowley assemble some Rangers to scout the forest and areas around it. If there was one ambush in the forest, they'll be others." Halt began. Horace's face gained a smirk that simply said this: I told you so. He looked over at his father in law and Sir David, all who glared at the young knight.

"Why not just use the Royal Scouts?" David asked, trying to find a way for Horace to be wrong.

"They don't have as much experience with tracking. Send a more experienced Ranger to track the group that attacked Alyss' escort." Halt continued. Horace's smirk grew, whilst David beat the young man with his sword- _mentally._

"Can't," David continued, regaining his compsure. "They were all found dead- each killed either by sword wounds or a throwing knife." Halt's eyebrow shot up.

"Throwing knife?"

"Throwing knife."

"Did you recover one?"

"Right here," Duncan spoke and gestured towards a silver knife sitting on the table. The hilt of the knife was covered with mud, covering any details. Halt examined it.

He scrubbed away at the dirt,

Cleaned away any mud,

And peered at the knife closely.

The knife had the initials _'WT' _engraved into the hilt.

. . .

**1: it's a run on and I don't know how to fix it. **

**BLUNT IS **_**NOT**_** WILL. I REPEAT: **_**BLUNT IS NOT WILL!**_

**You know, considering that this chapter was longer than normal, I believe that makes up for the fact that I didn't update. The last part about Halt and everyone was originally going to be in the beginning of the next chapter, but I decided to give you guys a bit more than just Blunt and Alyss' dreams/memories.**

**Well, depending on how much time I have, you may or may not see an update from me tomorrow.**

**-Sharkbait**

**(Yes, as in the Finding Nemo shark bait)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Ranger's Apprentice belongs to John Flanagan. I'm not making ANY money what so ever, either. Besides, if I **_**were**_** making money off this, we all know I wouldn't be publishing this on fan fiction.**

**So… how's everyone's weekend? All right, down to business. **

**It **_**snowed**_** in October. No joke, it is snowing outside my home **_**right now.**_** If you think I lie… well I'm not telling you where I live so... just believe me, okay?**

**ANYWAY…**

The rider rubbed his horse fondly inside the warmth of the small cave. His horse whinnied happily as the rider nuzzled the horse's nose. "The road home is long, isn't it, boy?" The rider asked his horse. The rider held his hand out, and his horse bumped it softly with his head. "But a road is also a journey, and this one will prove to be quite long- longer than normal, I expect." The rider replied. His hood and cowl covered his face, hiding it from the view of his horse.

_And it's a journey you haven't made for some time._ The horse seemed to reply. The rider chuckled before he responded.

"Technically I made the journey just a few months ago." The rider replied with a smirk.

_It doesn't count unless you talk with them._

The rider went silent. "Now we both know that I can't go back. I'm a criminal, remember?" The rider whispered. The horse whinnied angrily before kicking up on its hind legs.

_No master of mine is a criminal and you know it! That's just an excuse for you not to show your scars._

The rider's body language showed anger- he clenched his fists and shook violently. "We both know that what happened is my fault- I couldn't stop him. And if they were to see the scars… they'd know that it was me… they'd know that I'm the one who started the fire…" The rider whispered. His shoulders sagged with sadness, his fists unclenched, and his voice was hoarse.

_You didn't start the fire, though! You tried to stop it!_

"I know… I know… I just… I could've stopped it…" The rider sat on one of the rocks in the cave, warming his hands around the fire.

_That doesn't mean that you have to hide from it._

That ended the conversation between the rider and his horse. The rider in response removed his hood, but not his cowl.

The visible parts of the rider weren't pretty. Or at least half of them wasn't. The left side of the rider's face was normal for a man- except for high on his cheekbone was a small scar. That was normal for a warrior, though. You can't escape every wound.

Then there was the right side of the rider's face.

His eye was a pale blue- cornea, no pupil. The blue made his right eye look like someone had plucked his eye out and placed a ball of mist there. The rider sometimes could see out his eye, sometimes he couldn't.

The rest of the right side of his face was the remnants ofa severe burn. The skin was purple and wrinkled. His eyebrow looked like someone had taken their finger and pulled the corner of his eyebrow down so it was equal with the bridge of his nose. There were clumps of hair around his head- some hair had grown back, some hadn't. The parts that hadn't grown back showed red tissue on his scalp. His right nostril was fused shut. Like his eyebrow, the corner of the rider's mouth had been pushed down and fused into place.

"Is this what you want? To see what a criminal looks like?" The rider whispered to his horse. His horse shook his head violently before trotting closer to the rider.

_A criminal doesn't look like that- only a hero does._

The rider couldn't help but chuckle. He'd never get the last work with his horse…

_Never._

. . .

Alyss awoke around sun rise to the smell of game cooking. Blunt sat around the fire, a pot holding what looked to be rabbit stew. Another pot held what smelled like coffee. There was also some bread and dried fruit sitting on a platter. "Good morning," Blunt said cheerfully. He smiled as she sat up and stretched- something she'd grown fond of doing.

Alyss couldn't help but think of _him_ as Blunt served their breakfast. It was hard not to, actually. Blunt just seemed so darn… _him _like. "You drink coffee?" She asked.

"A friend got me addicted. When I was younger, I used to despise the taste. But I guess that's what happens when you're in the company of a Ranger." Blunt replied. Alyss began to drink the coffee, only for Blunt to shake his head. "It doesn't taste as good unless you add honey." He stated before handing her the small jar of honey.

"And why do you add honey?" She asked.

"Like I said, a friend got me addicted. He used to hate the taste- like I did- but his mentor showed him that if you add honey, it drowns out the bitterness of the coffee." Blunt replied with a shrug. Alyss raised her eyebrow at that. This friend got addicted to coffee the same way… _he_ did.

Alyss accepted the answer, though, and took a bite of the stew. "Where'd you learn to make this stew?" She asked after finishing the bite. The stew tasted a lot like the stew _he_ would make when she visited his cabin.

"The same friend taught me. Let's just say this- an old friend taught me to cook." He replied with a smirk before eating some of the stew.

"Was your friend the Ranger?" Alyss asked. Blunt raised his eyebrow in confusion. "The Ranger from the court room," Alyss clarified. Blunt's expression saddened at the mention of the Ranger.

"Yeah…" Blunt admitted.

"So he…"

"Died." Blunt finished.

Alyss nodded, and a silence ensued. She'd just barely met this man and yet felt like she'd known him forever. All she truly knew about him was this: he could cook _really_ well, had the accuracy worthy of a Ranger's with the knife, and was friends with a Ranger who was now dead. But by watching him, she could tell that he was organized. Or that he was used to traveling with a well organized person.

She also could tell that Blunt wasn't his real name, but a mere nickname or something.

But what he did for a living was the real question.

How did Blunt know about the Scotti men in the trees? Where did he learn to throw knives that well? How could he hide in the trees that well? Was he a Ranger?

The last question left Alyss hanging. But, she examined Blunt closely. He didn't carry a bow, nor did he have that mysterious aura the Ranger had. He also didn't have the trademark cloak of the Rangers.

If he wasn't a Ranger, how did he know so much?

They finished their meal in silence before packing their things and beginning their hike down the mountain. "Are we going to get any horses?" Alyss asked. A thought suddenly struck her. _Where was her horse?_ "And what happened to my horse?"

"Sent her towards the Araluen camp- hopefully she won't lose the note. Now for horses, we need to get down the mountain first. Besides, it's too risky taking horses right now." Blunt replied. Another silence ensued.

. . .

The rider rose early. He always did- he believed the earlier you rose, the more time you had to accomplish things. "We'll be heading towards the town of Govenant." The rider spoke to no one in particular. Technically, the only person- _thing_ that could hear him would be his small and shaggy horse.

_I hope you know that he's not here to hear you._

The rider sighed. "I know…" The rider replied. Even though his horse couldn't speak for himself, a part of his self conscious did.

_You could fix that._

"No, I can't. We both know that White would kill him. That's why I can't go home- remember? White will kill each and every one of them if I go back." The rider told his horse. Anyone watching the two would think that the rider was crazy. In all reality, the rider was wanted dead by a crazy person.

_Then kill White and get it over with. Reveal yourself to him and get rid of him. I really miss my friends, too, you know._

The rider sighed. "I can't just reveal myself and say: 'Hey world, look at me! Now White, can you come out and let me kill you already?'" The rider chuckled. "Besides, he's got too many cronies. The Organization isn't strong enough to take him down, yet."

_Then get the help of the Rangers!_

The rider looked at his horse like he was crazy. "They won't believe me. As far as they know, they don't even know that White exists. That's where the Organization comes in, remember? We don't take all of Araluen's problems and put them in Duncan's lap, we get rid of them and ease Duncan's burden." The rider told his horse for what he believed to be the millionth time.

_The Organization can't fix everything, you know._

"That's what we're trying to fix. And so far, we have been able to fix things. We've turned criminals into heroes, farmers into warriors, and helped people with good skills become excellent at those skills." The rider told his horse with a small smile. _And to think that I helped create it…_ the rider thought.

_The only problem is that every person in the Organization is believed to be a criminal._

"That helps hide us. It makes it so people like the Rangers can't but in and say 'Hey, this is our job! Butt out!'" The rider chuckled.

_Hypocrite._

"What's that supposed to mean?" The rider asked in astonished voice.

_You're a Ranger, that's what. And it is their job._

"Look, the Organization makes it so the Rangers can worry about what's going on around the world. Now they don't have to waste so much time worrying about bandits and other nuisances." The rider replied.

The horse did what would be considered a snort, and then drank from the water bucket the rider had left. "Now, it's time that we went under the mask. White is in the area, along with some friends." The rider got up, went to his saddle bags, and removed a black cloth and a bottle. The horse did nothing. "Remember, your name is Charlie." The rider told his horse with a smirk before messing around with the cloth and bottle.

The rider poured the sticky liquid from the bottle onto the cloth, and then stuck it to the left side of his face. The unscarred tissue covering his face was instantly covered, leaving only the scarred side showing. "And I am Mask."

. . .

Halt looked at the knife with a shocked expression. He knew this knife. Not literally, considering knives can't talk, but he'd seen this knife before. Actually, he remembered going to the black smiths and silver smiths at Castle Redmont and asking them to make the knife in front of him. He remembered examining the knife, giving it a test, placing it in the brand new scabbard along with a brand new saxe knife, and handing it to Will.

It'd been Halt's present to Will for graduating to his silver.

"This can't be right." That's the only thing Halt could say as he placed the knife gently on the table. "There is no way that this knife was recovered at that scene." Halt's voice held nothing but authority, and the other three men looked at Halt oddly.

"It was in the back of a dead Scotti soldier who was lying three feet away from a dead horse." Sir David replied in a confused tone.

"This was not recovered at the ambush sight." Halt stated.

"Yes, it was." David replied. "Halt, I plucked it out of the man's back myself. I can assure you it was."

"_NO, it wasn't."_ The way Halt said it, well it stopped David from speaking. Duncan looked at his old friend oddly and saw something in Halt's eye.

"And why is that?" He asked.

Halt met Duncan's gaze. He didn't wither back in the King's gaze, and if anything, if was Duncan who wanted to wither back in Halt's gaze. "This knife was in my apprentice's scabbard when he was struck in the chest by an arrow. That arrow eventually killed him after we'd left him in Nihon-Ja. There for, this knife couldn't have been recovered at the ambush sight." A sad look entered Halt's eyes as he spoke of the dead Will Treaty.

"How do you know?" Horace spoke. His voice was soft, his fist clenched.

"I remember giving it to him the day he graduated. I also remember placing it and its scabbard next to Will." Halt's gaze shifted to Horace. Horace shriveled under the Ranger's gaze. "Will was lying in a Nihon-Ja bed when I placed it next to him. I haven't seen this knife since."

"What does this mean?" Duncan asked.

"I don't know, but your emperor friend has some explaining to do."

. . .

**And now you know where the story got its title. You've met the Organization, the people behind this story, and its founder, Mask. You also have now heard a bit about the villain of this story, White. He's also the bad guys in this story's companion.**

**There, a chapter as promised. Don't expect it to happen again.**

**For anyone wondering, I expect this story to be a good 20 maybe even 30 chapters. Actually, I take that back. **_**I have no idea how long this thing is going to be… **_**Word wise… I'd say somewhere between 50,000 and 100,000 words.**

**You might see a chapter from tomorrow… dunno.**

**-Sharkbait**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I have the brain capacity of a mongoose (long story) and Ranger's Apprentice © John Flanagan. **

**Long time, no update. Unless you want to hear my excuse, skip the rest of this Author's note.**

**Before you go and gather all your knives and pitchforks, let me give you my excuse. My crap top, er **_**laptop**_**'s internet decided to throw itself out he window. I've had access to the internet via iPad, but that's it. You see, my craptop hooks up to the internt via this little jump drive thing. That broke, leaving me internet less, whilst the rest of the house got all the internet it wanted. **

**The entire plot is planned- main plot and side plot (s) included. They've been inspired by the songs **_**I Will Not Bow, Someday, **_**and **_**Long Live.**_** Those three songs have really inspired a lot of dialogue and such.**

_The Librarian_

Alan Clark has seen a lot of things in his time that he couldn't explain. He'd met people who he didn't understood. He tried things that made no sense to him (or to anyone else doing them) what so ever. In all honest truth, Alan should've been dead, along with all the other criminals working under the Librarian. Technically, the Librarian and Alan were supposed to be equals- The Founder was the only person above them, yet somehow, the Librarian had found a way to establish himself as the 'top dog.' The Founder had left Alan in charge of sending people on missions, and had left the Librarian in charge of filing, keeping secrets, and providing info.

The Librarian did most of the things on the list. He had had files on neaerly every person related to the Organization in the entire world. He kept secrets- secrets that as the person in charge until they found The Founder, Alan should've known, but didn't. The one thing the Librarian didn't do was provide info. Actually, the Librarian did provide info- he was rather useful, but there was info that he refused to give. Some info, the Librarian held onto with a firm grip. And for perhaps the hundredth time, Alan confronted the Librarian, trying to get that info out of the small man. "Where is The Founder?" Alan asked. The only reply he got for a moment was this: a shrug. The Librarian knew very well where The Founder was, but refused to tell.

"I can't tell you, Alan. I have specific orders from The Founder to keep secrets. Why do you think we call him The Founder- no one knows his name." The Librarian replied with his shrug.

The Librarian was a small man- perhaps the smallest man Alan had ever met. He had very short black hair- practically bald. The small man wore spectacles, often seen resting on the tip of his large nose. Alan was perhaps the exact opposite of the Librarian- he was rather tall and largely built. His hair was long and kept in a braid down his back. Most people described Alan to have eyes like a hawk- perfect vision. His nose, unlike the Librarian's, was normal sized.

"Damn it- you know his name. Tell me his name so I can find him." Alan demanded.

"No need for that type of language, Mr. Clark. The Founder didn't leave you in charge so you could curse your days as you tried to locate him. No matter what you think, Mr. Clark, The Founder does not need to be found. In fact, when the time is right, The Founder will find you. He's called The Founder for a reason, Mr. Clark." The Librarian chided, confusing the many scribes working in the library. As many people put it, the Librarian spoke in riddles. You had to figure out the riddle to find the info you wanted. In a way, the Librarian was like an Oracle, only a million times more confusing.

"For God's sake, stop speaking in riddles!" Alan yelled, frustration seeping into him again. He banged his fist down on the table where the Librarian sat. "No matter what we do- that's all we get out of you. One moment you say one thing, the next you're contradicting your own statement!" Alan just wanted to bang his head against the wall. In reality, any person would want to bang their head against a wall after speaking to the Librarian.

"My statements are all true one way or another, but they never contradict each other. You just have to solve the riddle." The Librarian said with a smirk, his spectacles resting on the tip of his nose. "Now, be a good boy and get me file 223." Alan fumed, but retrieved the requested file. The small man nodded in gratitude, and began to read the contents. _If only you were as intelligent as Will…_ the Librarian thought with a shake of the head. _I've told you his name many times before; you just need to solve the riddle._

"Do you have anything useful to say before I storm off?" Alan asked, trying to regain his composure.

"Ah yes, The Masked Rider is on the move again. I hear he's on a mission for The Founder." The Librarian replied absent mindedly. Alan's head shot up immediately.

"The Founder? Why the devil does he choose to speak to that nut job? Speaking to Mask is like talking to a battle horse- dangerous and impossible." Alan said with a roll of the eyes. Every now and then it was known for The Founder to confront someone on absolute secrecy- any person who'd tried to tell others about The Founder disappeared and were never seen again.

"Speaking to Mask is more like speaking to a Ranger horse. It's possible, but difficult." The Librarian said half mindedly as he continued to read file 223. _If you'd stop being so stupid and read the file, you may just learn the info you've spent the past two years searching for,_ the Librarian thought.

"Once again, you make no sense. Ranger horses only speak to their Ranger- and even that's doubtful." Alan replied, trying to keep his composure. If he became frustrated, the Librarian wouldn't tell him anything.

"Ah, but how would you know, Mr. Clark? You don't know any Rangers, let alone anything about them- they keep to themselves quite well." The Librarian thought as he turned the page of the file. _Once again, another hint has been given about The Founder, but someone is too stupid to realize it,_ the Librarian thought to himself half mindedly. "How can you know about a Ranger's horse if you don't know about a Ranger?" The Librarian asked.

Alan sighed as he looked at the many, many, many bookshelves lining the walls of the library. The library was the largest known room in the mansion that was the Organization's headquarters. On the second and third floor, members of the Organization (who were grouped into pairs) slept. The first floor held the library, Alan's office, an eating/social area, and the North Wing.

The North Wing was huge- it took up half of both the first and second floors. The only entrance known into the North Wing was on the first floor- that's why it was always referred to being on the first floor. No one knew anything about the large area- it was forbidden to everyone, Alan and the Librarian included. The only thing known about the North Wing was that if was The Founder's. Inside was The Founder's office, living, eating, and social quarters. The only problem with the North Wing was that it was always empty. The Founder was never in- and if he was (which you would never know), he entered secretly, unseen by the many guards who patrolled the perimeter of the mansion.

The Founder had disappeared into the lower ranks of the Organization, meaning he could be anyone. For all Alan knew, the Librarian could even be him.

"Listen, I just need to know his name. I need his help. If I don't get his help, the Organization will fall apart." Alan resorted to another strategy- pleading.

"Pleading won't get you anywhere, Alan. In fact, pleading will only get you farther away from your goal. I've told you- you won't find The Founder, The Founder will find you. That's why he's called The Founder- he finds things." The Librarian said, adding another reason to the _long_ list of reasons why The Founder was called The Founder.

"I thought The Founder was called The Founder because he founded the Organization- not because he finds things." Alan said. The words were much like a tongue twister, but they bated the Librarian into speaking more.

"The Founder did found the Organization, but that doesn't mean he doesn't find things. In fact, right now he is on his way to the Araluen camp, trying to find John Blunt." Alan scowled at the mention of the well-known dye thief.

"That man has no right to be apart of this Organization- no matter what we do, he still commits crimes. He acts like his criminal name is his real name." Alan said, his voice angered.

"You forget, John has been rather useful in the past. Do you forget his late partner, Will Treaty? Or as he was called then, Will?" The Librarian asked, hinting info about The Founder. Alan's head immediately drooped at the mention of The Founder's lieutenant. Will had been killed two years ago- around the same time The Founder disappeared. He'd been killed by Gage White, arch nemesis of the Organization and the person who the Librarian claimed The Founder was tracking.

"Oh I remember alright. Will was the best thing (next to The Founder) that this Organization'd ever seen. Until John got himself captured and needed rescuing. And of course- Will just had to rescue his partner. What happens, though? Will gets himself killed." Alan muttered to himself. "And now, we've been slowly falling apart ever since."

The Librarian sighed at Alan's incompetence. _If only you were as smart as Will thought you were…_ he thought absently. "We aren't falling apart, Alan. We just need to find something to bring us back together." He replied, speaking a unspoken riddle. "And once we find that something, we'll be brought back together. Nothing will ever be the same, Mr. Clark. Trust me, nothing will ever be the same." The Librarian said, his riddle foreshadowing the future.

. . .

"You're telling me you've sent my horse off to Lord knows where in hopes that one of your 'coworkers' will find it?"

"Yes, that exactly what I'm telling you."

"You've sent my horse off, without my permission what so ever?"

"Yep, that about sums it up."

"You've sent my horse off, leaving it to die."

Blunt hesitated before responding. "Yes… I think."

"So you agree that you've sent my horse to its death?"

"Yes… and no."

"Make up your mind."

"Yes?"

Alyss fixed him with a glare.

"No." Blunt shook his head 'no' many times for emphasis.

"I thought so. Now tell me, where is my horse?"

"Dunno- could be anywhere between here and the Araluen camp."

"And where exactly is here?"

"Dunno- could be anywhere between the Araluen camp and the bottom of the mountain."

"You don't know where we are, yet I'm supposed to trust you?"

"Yep. Rather stupid of you, isn't it?"

Alyss closed her eyes in annoyance, resisting the urge to slap Blunt upside the head. "You're supposed to be my guide to Redmont, yet you have no idea where we are what so ever?"

"Yep."

"And I'm supposed to trust you based off of the statement 'I'm an old friend of one of your friends'?"

"Yep."

She sighed and just continued the difficult hike down the mountain. She regretted bringing up the subject of her horse, wondering about the poor creature. "The next few weeks are going to be complete and utter hell, aren't they?"

"Probably."

**. . .**

**Well… that was a LONG chapter. My fingers still hurt. But, I'm wide awake due to all that mountain dew I drank- 7 cans. My poor parents…**

**The conversation between Alyss and Blunt was based off of a conversation I had with a cousin. Coincidentally, we were camping and he'd lost our horses….**

**The Librarian, The Founder (yes, 'The' is supposed to be capitalized), and Alan are three important side characters you may want to remember. They're main characters in one of the (dunno how many) side plots there are in this story. All the side plots do come together in the end, and they take up a HUGE chunk of the main plot- especially The Founder.**

**Updates SHOULD be weekly, as usual, unless another freak internet/snow storm incident happens and makes it so I have no internet.**

**I'll stop rambling.**

**-Sharkbait.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Consider this disclaimed.**

**A bit of swearing here, but that's the reason this story is rated T. Swearing and violence… and a bit of romance.**

* * *

><p>The ride to Govenant had been uneventful. They'd encountered only a light amount of rain, but other than that, the odds seemed to be in their favor. Charlie was well fed, Mask was dry, and so far, no one had tried to cause havoc when the Masked Rider came waltzing into town on his horse. Mask patted Charlie's head affectionately, muttering something about apples. Charlie shook his mane quietly at the thought of apples.<p>

For a person with such skill, Mask should've seen the man following him. But, somehow, all of Mask's training deluded him. He'd noticed the man following them on their first day, but he'd disappeared the second day, leaving Mask to think that he was of no concern. _Just another traveler,_ he'd told himself. For the first time in two years, Mask sat comfortably in Charlie's saddle, no pains or worries attacking him. Yet.

It wasn't until he'd reach the inn's stables and began to unsaddle Charlie that he noticed something was wrong…

He sniffed the air cautiously, seeing if he could pick up any unfamiliar smells. _None._ All he smelled was grease from the inn. _Remind me not to eat their food,_ he told himself carefully. He returned to loosening the saddle's girth when the man following him spoke.

"You've been a pain in the rear lately, and Mr. White doesn't like pains in his butt. I'm here to finish you off." The voice was deep and gruff, with a hint of a Scotti accent. Mask raised his left eyebrow (although, no one saw considering there was a piece of cloth glued to his face) and looked over his shoulder. Just as he thought, the Scotti man was big and gruff- a true Scotti warrior, not those pipsqueaks he'd dealt with closer to the border.

"And what makes you think you can beat me? After all, Gage has spent, what? Three years trying to kill me? He's failed each and every time. If your boss can't do it, then what makes you think _you_ can?" Mask asked. The words were slightly muffled do to his mask and the fact that the right side of his face was deformed. Whatever Mask had looked like before was a mystery. That's how deformed his face was- if someone from his past were to see him, they wouldn't recognize him.

"The boss prefers to be called Mr. White, not Gage." The mercenary replied. He could tell why the boss wanted the Masked Rider dead- the man was a stubborn and over confident.

He had good reason, though. The mercenary would be no match for the skilled bandit in front of him. "Yes, well you can tell _Mr. White_ that I don't give a damn." Mask replied sarcastically. _John is rubbing off on me…_ he thought absently. "Now, what are you going to do? Light me on fire like the last guy? All that did was backfire on him. The poor lad caught on fire and fell in a river." Mask rambled, distracting the mercenary. Then, when the mercenary least expected it, he charged.

The mercenary would be lying if he said he'd expected it. From what he'd been told, he was supposed to take down a bandit who'd been stealing from the boss's enemy raids. Actually, Mask had been sabotaging the enemy raids and returning the stolen goods. And putting the criminals in jail, mind you.

Mask was able to draw his saxe knife with skill that only a Ranger should possess. Some bandit off the street shouldn't be able to do that. But then again, Mask wasn't just any bandit off the street. He was a member of the Organization- a secret… well, Organization that rid Araluen of problems before they became known. The enemy raids, for instance.

The mercenary quickly removed his knife from his belt and the two fighters started to circle each other. "Ah, typical Scotti stance. It works- but it's not as good as the original Ranger stance." Mask said, distracting the mercenary yet again. He charged, the two knives clashing with each other.

Unlike the mercenary, Mask had an advantage. With his left hand, Mask removed his throwing knife and immediately the 'X' position. This increased both his defense and offense skills, giving him the upper hand. From that point on, Mask might as well had a win in the bag. Mask clashed with the mercenary briefly, teasing him and making the buff warrior that he still could win.

Then, just when the mercenary thought he'd win, Mask turned the tables. Instead of deflecting every throw the mercenary threw at him, Mask used one knife to block the attack and used the other to swoop in for an attack. He managed to scrape at the mercenary, who'd jumped back once he realized what the Masked Rider had done. Mask repeated this several times, switching hands every now and then. In all reality, the skilled bandit was toying with the mercenary. Mask unleashed a series of attacks that confused the Scotti man, and in the end, leaving him breathless. Mask chuckled to himself.

"Tired, are you?" He asked with an odd frown-grin thing. The end of his lip was pushed down and fused into place, making it look like he was forever frowning. Thus, his grin was… messed up. "How about this, we end this little squabble and you tell me the message Gage sent." Mask asked, seeing that the mercenary was nearly fatigued.

"What… what message?" The mercenary panted. He wheezed. Somehow, fighting with the bandit in front of him managed to drown the Scotti man, who were normally able to go for hours upon hours in battle, breathless.

"Oh come on. Gage always sends you pathetic mercenaries to give me a message. He knows you can't kill me. He's just toying with you, using you as a messenger to see if I'm still in tip top shape. Well, you can tell your boss that I said 'The usual, pig.'" The mercenary didn't quite understand what he'd gotten himself into when Gage White had confronted him with a job. The bandit acted like he did this stuff every day.

"Oh, come now, Will. You don't mean that, do you?" A new voice entered the conversation. The voice was sinister, and, Mask hated to admit it, intelligent. He instantly glared (well, the best a man with a screw up face can).

"You." He growled.

"Me." The voice stepped out of the shadows. He was tall, had long brown hair, spectacles, and an intelligent face. "I'm sure Mr. White wouldn't be pleased if his dear friend, Mr. Treaty, was calling him a pig."

"You left out fat, worthless, and needs-to-go-die-in-a-hole pig." Mask grunted out. "What do you want, Gilroy?"

"Me? Why I'm fine, thank you. Mr. White sends his regards and reminds you that if your… friends… find out your alive, they'll be dead before you can say-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know." Mask muttered. Gilroy raised his eyebrow in a fashion that was rather bothersome. The poor mercenary, confused beyond belief, quickly left, pocketing the money Mr. White had given him and planned on returning home.

"Look what you've done. You've scared the fellow off. What a shame- I was hoping we'd have another murder to add to the list of your crimes." Gilroy sighed. He made a 'tisk' sound with his tongue as he watched the Scotti man run towards the north. "Either way, Mr. White sends me with a message."

"What the devil does that bastard want now?" Mask growled. Gilroy raised his eyebrow and chuckled.

"I'll be sure to tell him you appreciate the effort. Now, as I was saying, Mr. White sends me with a message. A friend of yours, John Blunt, I believe, has found a certain friend of yours and is escorting her back to Redmont." Mask's eyebrow shot up… somewhat. "Now, Mr. White isn't happy. You said that no one would meet your past friends. Well, Mr. Blunt has met Ms. Mainwaring. I believe you know what that means, don't you, Mr. Treaty?" Mask was getting annoyed with all the formalness. With Gage and Gilroy, it was always 'Mr. This, and Ms. That.' He was sick of it.

"If any of you sick bastards touch her I swear I'll-"

"You'll what? Threaten us with your little Organization?" Gilroy teased. "Mr. White would like you to know that an ambush it waiting for them. Stop the ambush, and he will test you. Either way, Will, they will both wind up dead." Gilroy chuckled. Mask charged at the tall man, fury engulfing him like a flame. It was a rather sick simile. The right side of his face and his upper torso down to his right hand were all burned and wrinkled from a fire a two years ago.

"Now, Mr. Treaty, I have business to attend to. You may as well spare them a harsh death- you know how Mr. White can be, Will. After all, look at you." Gilroy laughed psychotically before disappearing into the shadows, leaving Mask alone with his horse.

"Curse them… curse them to the deepest, darkest corner of hell!" Mask grumbled angrily. "Come on, Charlie. We have an ambush to stop."

. . .

"Go."

"What?"

"You heard me, go."

"Go where?"

"Halt, I'm giving you permission to track down Alyss." King Duncan told the Ranger who's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"You… you are?" Halt replied, the information not quite sinking in very well.

"Of course I am. You and Gilan can go find the missing Courier. Your wife and Baron have been rather… depressed… ever since her disappearance. Finding her would be the smart thing to do. Besides, from what I hear, a certain Ranger may or may not be with her." Duncan smirked, seeing that for perhaps the first time in _years_ he'd managed to leave Halt speechless. Halt just stood there, blinking.

"Halt, I'm serious. If you think he's alive, then you need to find out. If you were king, and Cassandra was Will and I was you, I'd want to go as well." Duncan told the speechless Ranger. "That made no sense whatsoever, but still. I think I've made my point."

"Your majesty… I don't know what to say." Halt finally said.

"Halt, you found my daughter years ago. Now, you need to find your son. Go." The king stood up from his seat and exited the tent, leaving Halt to contemplate his thoughts.

As soon as the king was gone, Halt was heading for Gilan. He found the tall and lanky Ranger sitting around a campfire, a coffee mug in his hand. "Gilan- pack your bags, we need to find Will."

* * *

><p><strong>Look at me! I managed to put in page breakers without the computer glitching and giving me ten of them in a row. :) <strong>

**Now, I know this chapter gave away who Mask was. It was supposed to. You see, you guys all know that Mask is really Will who is alive. Alyss, Blunt, Halt, Gilan, and everyone else (minus a few select characters…) don't. Sorry about the swearing, but come on people. If some psychotic freak was trying to kill everyone you love, you'd probably call them a bastard, too.**

**Until next week,**

**Sharkbait.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaim.**

**RANDOM FACT: Did you know that the dude who played Inspector Gadget also voiced Simba in all three of the Lion King movies?**

**:D**

**Two characters haven't been leaving me alone lately. Thank goodness that it isn't that trio I've come to love and hate all at the same time. Those three will drive a person to insanity…**

Anthony Blunt leaned over his large cherry desk, his eyes (for once) not hidden by the spectacles normally seen upon his face as he focused on the large map in front of him. To anyone watching, Anthony looked like the scribe he portrayed. Small. Scrawny. Innocent as a flea. But those who knew Anthony knew that the man calculating the distances between one point and another was dangerous. _Extremely_ dangerous, with emphasis on the '_extremely.'_

If there were a list of the most dangerous people on earth, Anthony would probably rank in at about seven. Before him would be people similar to the Masked Rider and Gage White._ Hell, maybe even Halt O'Carrick, _Anthony thought half mindedly. After Anthony would be people like the Oakleaf Knight and Alan Clark. _That is when Alan can keep his temper from exploding, _Anthony thought as he checked his estimate of the distance between Wolf Peek Ridge and the small trading village of Govenant. His estimate was correct. Right down to the millimeter.

Anthony, in a word, was a genius. He was a master technician, had expansive knowledge of the environment, and was perhaps the best mathematician the world had ever seen. In other words, Anthony was like the Einstein of his time period. But, then there was White… who was like the Benjamin Franklin gone evil. The guy (White, that is) was persuasive- _extremely_ persuasive.

Anthony sighed as he tried to figure out where White's hideout was. "Where are you, Gage?" Anthony growled. He banged his hand on the desk in frustration, shaking the table and all the objects on it. From what he'd figured, White's current hideout wasn't in any southern fiefs. The Organization knew where White's major head quarters were, but attacking the place in their current state would be suicidal. White always moved his hideouts from town to town, fief to fief. The man knew that if he didn't move, the Organization would eventually gather the numbers to siege hold of his castle.

White Castle- as it had been called for over five centuries- was located along the border of the Norgate fief. The Castle belonged to the White family- once a noble family of knights (that betrayed Araluen during the Morgarath fiasco) and arch rivals of the Blunt family. The Blunt family (who'd fought on the Araluen side by stopping Wargal raids) owned what the Organization used as a head quarters- the Mansion. The Blunts were a criminal family of thieves and murders with a harsh sense of training. For over five centuries, the two families had been at each other's necks. Now, only a few members (seven to be exact…) of the families remained after…

_NO!_ Anthony thought harshly. _I will NOT think about that!_ He yelled at himself. Thinking about the… incident… was hard on him. The only people who lived through the incident were him, his little brother, and his uncle- three of the seven people left to fight out the feud. The other four were Whites. In some ways, the two families had switched places during the war. The Blunts were still criminals and still feared by anyone who came across them… but they had different purposes for their crimes. The Whites were still experts with the sword and could defeat just about anyone in a sword fight… but they weren't knights anymore.

Anthony scowled. He really hated trying to solve White's mysteries. Sure, Anthony was a genius. But White was a psychopath with no intention of stopping his crimes until the remaining Blunts were dead. _He's somewhere in Norgate…_ Anthony thought to himself. "Will said that he ran into Gilroy in Govenant. If Roy is in Norgate, then Gage isn't too far behind…" Anthony said aloud. "And if Gage is planning something, then Gilroy will most likely be involved with said something." Anthony chuckled slightly. "I assume that the Masked Rider will make an appearance?"

He'd meant to say it jokingly. After all, the Masked Rider (TMR, for short) was known for showing up out of nowhere. The man had managed to sneak into the Ranger Commandant's office and steal a few reports on crimes recently committed by White. The funny thing, though, was the fact that Crowley had been in his chair, sipping a cup of coffee with the said reports _in his hands_ when they were stolen. TMR had somehow (how the hell he'd managed it- Anthony didn't know) to switch the reports with a note hinting info at the disappearance of a Baron.

That, of course, was intentional. The Organization had figured out who'd taken the Baron and where he was when the case was handed to the Ranger Corps. The Founder, wanting to… 'help'… the Rangers, wrote up a note that basically gave them the info they needed. But, that is a different story to be saved for another time.

Still, TMR had a habit of showing up out of nowhere. That being said, when Anthony had asked his question, he got a reply.

"Wouldn't be the same without him, wouldn't it?"

Anthony spun around on his toes, eyes wide as he finally noticed the hiding bandit (who'd been in the room long before Anthony's thoughts began to wander). "My God! I didn't see you there!" Anthony exclaimed. TMR stepped into the candle light, dressed in the simple Ranger garb.

"Good, that means I haven't lost my touch." The Masked Rider replied, his tone light and normal compared to the deep monotone he normally used.

The Masked Rider was considered one of the most dangerous men in all of Araluen. What made him so dangerous wasn't the fact that he didn't have any contempt for the victims of his crimes, but that he was believed to be a renegade Ranger. Who the Ranger was? No one knew.

The popular belief was that the Masked Rider was one of the thirteen Rangers who'd supposedly been killed in a fire at a Ranger Gathering about two years back. The belief was plausible- TMR's face was proof enough. Half the face was burned and scarred. Whatever his face looked like before he got those scars was a mystery. Supposedly no one had ever seen the other side of his face- there was a black mask that covered the unscarred tissue of his face. Sure, the fabric was denser in some places- making it so he could see and breathe without any trouble, but no one knew what his face looked like beneath the dense area. The Rangers didn't even know his eye or hair color.

Anthony Blunt knew better, though. He knew exactly who the Masked Rider was. He knew TMR's history- everything from who his father was to how he got those scars. The Masked Rider removed his hood, and for once in a long time, he wasn't wearing the mask. Then again, Anthony had seen his face before. In fact, Anthony had known TMR long before he'd gotten the scars.

"It's good to see you, Will."

"Nice to see you to, Anthony."

"How's things been for you?"

"As good as things can be when you've got a psychotic bastard trying to murder each and every person you've ever cared for."

"Oh come on, things can't be _that_ bad."

"Says the guy who spends his days cooped up in this room."

"Actually, he spends his days cooped up in either _this _room, or _that_ room." Anthony said, gesturing towards the door that led to the Library.

"Whatever." Will replied in a rebellious teenager voice.

"Coffee?" Anthony said, gesturing towards the pot sitting on the edge of his desk.

"Yours?" Will asked with his eyebrow raised.

"Anna's." Anthony replied. He sat down in a chair with a '_plop!'_ before resting his feet on the desk. Will made a face that signaled he was deciding whether or not to accept the coffee.

"How long has it been sitting there?" He asked. Anna was known for making great coffee- almost as good as Halt's, but Anthony was known for allowing his coffee to just sit there and get cold before he finally remembered to drink it.

Anthony shrugged- he never paid attention to that part. "An hour or so." He replied half mindedly. Will scowled. Coffee didn't taste good after it'd been sitting there for over half an hour.

"No thanks. I'll just get some on my way out." Will replied with a shrug.

"What is it with you? I swear- you could at _least_ stay the night for once. The North Wing is getting dusty considering you won't Anna or any of the other cleaning ladies in there." Anthony said as he poured himself some coffee. Maybe Will wouldn't drink it, but he would.

"The Founder is busy. He can't spend all his days in the Mansion. After all, Gage is still tormenting 'im." Will said with a shrug. He moved towards the map and began studying places where Anthony had left off.

"That bastard torments as many people as he can." Anthony said moodily. "Any ideas?" He asked, gesturing towards the map.

"Honestly, I don't even think he's _in_ the country." Will sighed. Anthony's eyebrows shot up. He hadn't thought of that. "But he's near the border. Could be on the Araluen side, could be on the Picta side." Will said with a shrug.

"Didn't think of that." Anthony scratched his chin.

"I work better with coffee. You think Anna will still have the pot running?" Will asked from his place in front of the map.

"Probably- she knows Alan and his habits of demanding coffee in the dead of the night." Anthony replied. He closed his eyes briefly, only to open them and find that Will had snuck off. "How the hell does he do that?" Anthony chuckled. _You can do it too- after all you managed to teach John to do it, _a little part of his mind said to him, _–With Will's help._

Anthony picked up a report he'd... 'borrowed'... from Alan. The report was on some raids going on in a few southern fiefs. Apparently, Alan believed that they were connected to the war with Picta. But, being the genius at heart, Anthony knew that the raiding was really just some Iberian pirates with a thirst for gold. Sometimes, the man was so ignorant it scared Anthony. "Why the hell Will chose him, I'll never know…" He mumbled to himself. Anthony reached for the coffee sitting on his desk and began taking a sip. Instantly, he scowled. "Will's right. I need to stop leaving coffee out."

Anthony returned to reading his report. And, much to his surprise, he realized that the paper he was holding wasn't his report. Instead, it was piece of scrap paper that read:

_You really need to start paying attention to things. You're almost as ignorant as Alan._

_After all, I managed to swipe this paper and a pen off your desk, scribble this note on here _and_ switch this with your precious report while you were sipping your cold coffee._

_ All while dangling from a ceiling beam._

Anthony looked up, and just as the note said, Will sitting on a ceiling beam, his legs dangling over the edge with his coffee in hand. "I still can't believe you didn't see me get that pen." Will said with a smirk.

"You can't see how you got the pen? How the hell did you manage to switch the papers? That's the _real_ question!" Anthony exclaimed. His eyes were wide open, all thoughts of comfortably drinking his cold coffee and reading his reports gone. "I never put the piece down- how in the world did you do that?"

"Practice." Will replied with a shrug. "You could do it too if you would just get out of that stupid library for a while." Will accused.

"Hey- it was _your_ idea to give the Organization an information broker. I just so happened to be the person who was there at the time." Anthony shot right back.

"But do you really have to drive Alan to the peak of insanity? I swear- one of these days that man is going to snap, and when he does… I don't even want to imagine that." Will shook his head. "So, any ideas on White's location?"

"With our combined inputs, I'd say he's a few miles north of Wolf Peek Ridge and west of Govenant."

"What? You mean I was _right there!_" Will said annoyed. "If I'd known that, I would've grabbed John and had him help me terrorize the place…" Will trailed off, face turning pale as he remembered something.

"Will?" Anthony asked, eyebrows raised. _He only gets like this when Gage is threatening someone…_ Anthony thought to himself. "What about John? Is he alright?" Anthony's mood quickly switched. The intelligent man slowly transformed into that of a concerned friend… or brother. "Why are you really here?" Will gulped.

"I need info. And I need you to begin organizing a back up force."

"What info? Why do you need a force?"

"There's an ambush planned. John ran off and… saved… an old friend of mine…"

"A Ranger?"

"No…"

"Bandit you somehow befriended?"

"No…"

"Alyss?"

Will didn't respond. Instead, his hand reached into his cloak where his hand found the black cloth he kept as a mask. "I need to go. Organize the force and be prepared to send them out at a moment's notice. Tell Alan that The Founder has left you in charge of a certain mission and that he'll be reporting to you for a while."

Another thing the Masked Rider was known for was dramatic exits. He turned, his cloak flapping in the air like a cape before he pulled his hood up and over his head. He leaped into the air and his hands caught on the ceiling beam before he swung forward like an acrobat and into the network of tunnels that led between the floors of the Mansion. Anthony sighed. "Once again, you're gone in less than an hour." He stood from his chair and reached for his spectacles that were sitting on a book. The cloak he'd been wearing was removed, showing simple scribe robes. He moved towards a water basin and wet his hair down into the slick style that the Librarian and only the Librarian wore.

The Librarian sighed. Alan wasn't going to appreciate being woken up before the buttcrack of dawn.

**. . .**

**Sorry this chapter took so long. Internet issues, writer's block- they're all just one overly large pain in the behind.**

**Updates should (and hopefully) be on time from now on. I've got a jump drive, so if internet decides to be stupid, I can just take the drive and upload from somewhere else.**

**-Sharkbait**

**Oh, and to a certain person (can't remember your name, sorry)- TIM MCGRAW FTW! :D :D :D**

**Someone **_**finally**_** caught that. I'd lost a bet and so my brother (darn him if he's reading this [which he is...]) made me incorporate a country song into the chapter. I've been planning on changing it, but SOMEONE won't let me on the computer with internet to do so.**

**Now, I can sign off.**

**-Sharkbait**


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMED.**

. . .

_He was in a dark room. A very large and a very dark room. He couldn't see his own hand when it was in front of his face. But if John were an honest man, he'd admit that he wasn't sure if his hand _was_ in front of his face. But John was a Blunt, and Blunts never admit to their shortcomings. Instead, they come up with some excuse for how they messed up._

"_Run. John- run! Hurry! I'll hold them off- GO!"_

_The voice came from behind him. Or so John thought…_

"_John- GO!"_

_This time the voice came from in front of him. The voice was male and would've been recognized by many of those who missed the person. John should've recognized the voice, but months of regret and guilt had plagued his mind, leaving him confused to where he was._

"_JOHN! GO!"_

_He heard the voice coming from the right of him. He spun on his heels to face the voice. But in the darkness of his mind, John didn't see the speaker. Just darkness. A never ending darkness. He heard coughing. The coughing was followed by gasps of breath. More coughing. More gasps. John ran through the darkness, trying to find the source of the voice. He'd heard that type of coughing before._

"_John… please. Run- take care of them. Please… just go…"_

_The voice spoke again. The voice wasn't as strong as it was before. The voice was weak. John recognized the tone the speaker was using. He'd heard it many times before. Mainly when people were speaking their last words. John began searching frantically for the voice. He fell, and cursed. The curse word he muttered echoed around him. He kept searching. He couldn't find the voice. _

"_Go…"_

_The voice spoke one last time. The voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper. John's searching stopped. He knew that the speaker would be dead by the time he found him. That is, _if_ John found the speaker. He just sat down, brought his knees to his chest, and breathed. _

_And then, as if being suddenly shaken awake, everything became clear. "Will… no. Oh God… no…" John whispered. "No…" The word echoed around him. Greif overcame him. Guilt, remorse, regret, and fear overwhelmed him. What would he do? Anthony was dead. Now Will was, too. What would the Organization do? Who would pass on The Founder's messages? Would The Founder be angry with him? Would the King of Thieves try to kill him? After all, it was his fault. All his fault…_

_He was too slow. He hadn't been fast enough to save Anthony. And now, he hadn't been fast enough to save Will. What would he do? What _could_ he do?_

. . .

Blunt sat up in his sleep, perspiration dripping down his face as his breathing came in ragged gasps. His eyes were the size of plates, and he looked like he was ready to vomit up the rabbit stew they'd had for dinner last night.

"Blunt?" Alyss asked softly. He looked at her, slightly confused, slightly terrified. Alyss was convinced the Blunt couldn't be any older than twenty- but in that moment, she thought he looked to be at least a hundred. "Are… are you okay?" She asked gently, trying not to startle the terrified man.

Blunt blinked a few times, shoving the white spots that had plagued his vision away. "Yeah… yeah, I'm fine…" He said quietly. His voice was hoarse, and he swallowed to try and push away the weakness from his voice. A Blunt is never weak. And, since he was a Blunt, he couldn't be weak, either.

"Did… did you have a nightmare?" Alyss asked. Ever since she'd realized that Blunt had been the man she'd seen in the court room that awful day, she was careful around him. She still didn't trust him completely- she was honestly plotting to ride off once he got the two of them horses. She knew he had a dark past- the name 'Blunt' rang many bells for her. The Blunts weren't trustworthy people. They were meant to be feared.

The Blunts were a criminal family that behaved more like a guild than a family. They were intelligent criminals- organized, as well. For over five centuries the Blunts had been giving different countries around the world hell. Now days, Blunts were scarce. Based off of what her mentor had told her, the Blunts were practically extinct.

"Yeah… but it doesn't matter. We need to get moving." Blunt replied. His age seemed to decrease from a hundred to forty. In many ways, Blunt reminded Alyss of Halt. Experienced, shady, but trustworthy all at the same time. In all concepts, Blunt seemed to be a Blunt, yet he didn't seem to be a Blunt.

He got up, slowly began packing away his things, and acted like nothing had happened. "Well? We need to get moving." He said when he noticed Alyss watching him carefully. He sighed. "Look, it was a nightmare. Oh well. We barely know each other, so go right on ahead and stop caring." Blunt said rather bluntly.

Alyss nodded and began to pack away her things. She didn't have much- a wool blanket, a change of clothes, some important documents, and a dagger. Everything else had been on her horse, but _someone_ had sent her horse off in no real direction. Apparently her horse had a message in the saddle. But based off the terrain they'd been climbing across lately, Alyss knew Blunt had sent her horse off for the sake of the animal's safety.

"We're three days away from Govenant. There, we'll purchase a few horses and head towards Redmont. I'll take you to the border and the border no further. People with the name of 'Blunt' aren't exactly welcome in the fief, so you'll have to find your way to Wensley by yourself." Blunt said from behind her. He had everything packed away in a leather satchel, and he looked like an average commoner. The only difference was the fact that a row of knives hung form his belt, ready to be thrown at any time.

Alyss dimly remember Lady Pauline saying something about how Blunts were known for their skill with the throwing knife or something, but Alyss pushed the thought away and kept walking. "What's your name?" Alyss asked. When he looked at her oddly, she continued. "I just thought that… well, you know. Is Blunt your first name, last name, middle- you know…" Alyss looked down, slightly embarrassed.

"John." He replied, understanding what she meant.

"What?" Alyss' head shot up.

"John. My name is John Blunt."

"Alyss Mainwaring… but you already knew that, didn't you?" Alyss said with a slight smirk. Her suspicions had been confirmed. Blunt hadn't been his first name, but his last. Meaning he was a Blunt.

Blunt- er, John- smirked. "Not to be odd, but I know quite a bit about you; you grew up in the Redmont ward, you were apprenticed to Lady Pauline O'Carrick, you were engaged to Will Treaty before his death a few years ago, you're one of Baron Arald's valued Couriers, a skilled diplomat, you're fairly good friends with her Royal Highness Princess Cassandra (but you weren't always), you always try to wake up in time to watch the sunrise, and you can't help but drink coffee a little sadly. And as for the sunrise part, I know _exactly_ why, as well." Alyss' eyes widened at the info slightly. "Trust me, that's only the beginning."

"How… how do you know all that?" Alyss asked.

"I told you, I'm an old friend of one of your old friends. And let's just say that they spoke _very_ highly of you _very_ often." John smirked. The smirk was mischievous and Alyss couldn't help but be reminded of… _him._

"Well, what about you? You seem to know quite a bit about me, yet the only thing I know about you is that your name is John Blunt and that you've got quite a bit of skill with the knife." Alyss said, trying to learn more about this odd figure she was somehow supposed to trust. John's smirk disappeared.

"If I told you more than that, you'd be running towards those Scotties without any hesitation." He said grimly.

"What do you mean?"

"Ever heard of the Blunts? They're practically extinct now days, but as long as my uncle and I live, they still exist." Alyss jerked back at John's response and practically stumbled back. _John Blunt… where have I heard that name before?_ Alyss asked herself. She didn't respond to John's statement until it hit her.

"Johnny Blunt." She said, staring at John with a mix of terror and distrust. John sighed.

"Yeah. Like I said, you're probably trying to find the best way to escape without me noticing. Those days, though… those days are over. Johnny Blunt was a child. As of two years and three months, I'm no longer a child. So in other words, some other kid can take up the name for all I care." John sighed out. "If you plan on running, go right on ahead. I don't blame you if you do."

Alyss looked at John closely. He wasn't lying. That's one thing for sure- he didn't care if she ran. "So… so you are Johnny Blunt?" Alyss asked carefully.

"No. Johnny Blunt was a criminal who stole for the thrill of it all. I'm a member of the Organi- I mean… I'm Jonathen Blunt. I'm trying to fix all the mistakes that Johnny made, but so far… I think I've done nothing but make ever worse decisions." John admitted. "Like I said, if you plan on running, go right on ahead. I'm only trying to fix my mistakes."

Alyss' curiosity was sparked in a moment. What did she have to do with his mistakes? Did it have something to do with this old friend? Was he really trying to fix all the mistakes he'd made?

Alyss didn't know. But she decided that it might be best if she tried to find out.

. . .

Meters above, sitting perched on the thin pine tree branches, the King of Thieves frowned. John Blunt had nearly given away info about _his_ Organization. That didn't settle well with the creator of the Organization. It wouldn't settle well with anyone. The Organization was the King of Thieves' pride and joy. Without it, he wouldn't have any soldiers to fight against Gage.

Slowly, the two began to move to exit the clearing they'd used as their camp. They didn't need to keep watch- the paths John Blunt knew were only used by Organization members. And even then, only a Blunt would try to tackle the obstacles that came with following the paths. Of course, then there was Gage who would track them down anyway and try to ambush them.

And so, he jumped- tree to tree, shadow to shadow, following them along their unsteady path. Never stopping, always moving forward, trying to keep up with the harsh pace John Blunt followed. As much as he wanted to, the King of Thieves couldn't stop. If he did, Gage White would win. The King of Thieves couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't allow it. If White won, they'd all die. Each and every person he'd ever cared for would be dead in moments.

. . .

**Heh, heh… long wait anyone? So… um… I don't have much of an excuse. The no internet connection one seems to be getting old, and homework… well, I've been procrastinating on that, so that wasn't much of an issue. How about… writer's block and laziness? Yeah… that sums it up.**

**Someone was asking for info about Blunt- er, John- and so here you have it. Now Alyss is even more confused as to whether or not she can trust John. Blunts aren't supposed to be friendly, yet John is.**

**This is to the people who requested a sequel to HWNAH:**

**I've been getting some requests from you guys asking me to write a response to others visiting the little monument or something like that. I've thought about it, and a plot bunny with quite a few ideas moved into my basement for it. So, that being said, I've planned a two to three shot in response. Let me say this: the (enter number of shots here) shot will not be about others visiting the monument. Nor will it be a songfic. It won't be in third person POV, either. And for those of you who haven't read HWNAH and are curious, you will **_**not**_ **need to read that first to understand.**

**-Sharkbait**


	9. Chapter 9

**-enter your choice of disclaimer here- (It's not mine, and it's not going to **_**ever**_** be mine)**

**So… I lied. Yeah, I know. I said Friday. It's… well, let's just say that it's been a while. But hey, at least I updated.**

**. . .**

"I hate mornings…" A voice grumbled from inside one of the many tents scattered about the Araluen camp. The voice was male and obviously _ very_ tired.

"You hate mornings, you hate evenings, and I'm willing to bet a _lot_ that you hate afternoons." Another voice, this one female, replied from inside the two person tent.

"You'd probably win that bet." The first voice replied. "Alright, I've got quote unquote 'important Ranger business' to tend to."

Halt hid a smirk. Ever since the wedding and the birth of he and Jenny's first child, Gilan tended to dislike anything that started with 'waking' and ended with 'up.' "Welcome to married life." Halt murmured. "Gilan," he said louder, "You've got 'important Ranger business' to tend to, get up." Gilan groaned.

"Why can't it wait? And why me? It's not like you don't have thirty other Rangers roaming around this place." Gilan groaned.

"You can thank your father, now get up." Halt said, whacking the side of the tent. Of course, the tent was made of a thick fabric, so all it did was bounce back and forth, but it still emphasized his point.

"Alright, alright! No need to bring the tent down…" Gilan groaned.

Within five minutes, both Gilan and Jenny were up and about the spot they'd claimed their camp. Jenny was dressed, Gilan was partially dressed, and Halt had a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. Gilan moved to sit near the fire across from Halt, groaning as he sat down. "Stop groaning- you're not even forty." Halt said, taking a sip. Gilan glared as he tried (unsuccessfully) to get his boots on.

"You can tell me to stop groaning when you don't live with a two year old." Gilan replied, finally getting a foot into one of the boots. Granted, it was the wrong foot being placed into the wrong boot, but at least he'd gotten it in. Gilan's brows furrowed for a moment. "Hey Jenny," he called over his shoulder, "Who's watching Ray while we're gone?"

"She was with Alyss, but she was called up here. I heard rumors about her party being ambushed a few kilometers away from here…" Jenny replied. "Halt, do you know anything about that? Is… is the kitchen gossip true (as usual)?"

Halt took a deep breath. "That's why I'm here. Gilan, you and I are supposed to investigate. The bodies of all six of Alyss's escorts were found, but she wasn't." Jenny stifled a gasp. "There's… there's something else. Gil… Crowley and I think Will is involved."

Gilan sat up straight. He'd been hunched over, but now he was listening attentively. "Do you still have that knife I gave you? The one I gave you when you graduated?" Gilan nodded. He also resisted the urge to snicker about Halt's use of two questions in a row, but he knew that the mood was in no way prepared for his wit at the moment. " I gave one to Will when he graduated. They found it," Halt explained, reaching into his cloak to remove and object wrapped tightly in cloth.

"You think he's alive, don't you, Halt?" Gilan asked in surprise.

"I'd believe it," Jenny added, "In case someone hasn't noticed, _no one_ went and made sure he was actually dead. _No one_ has gone and seen where he's buried. _If_ he's buried at all…"

"The letter wasn't up to standards, either…" Halt added. Why hadn't he thought about this earlier? The letter they'd received looked like it'd been scribbled on a piece of paper. Why would an emperor scribble something _that_ important on a piece of paper?

"So let me get this straight," Gil began, "you received a letter from the Nihon-Jan emperor that basically said that Will was dead. The letter didn't make much sense, and from what I understand, you don't have it anymore. Our job is to go and find Alyss- if possible- and see if we can find proof that our dear and dead friend Will is alive." Gil summed up.

"You know, for someone who hates mornings, you're sure on top of things." Halt said, taking a sip of his coffee. Gilan grinned, lifting his own cup in something similar to a mock toast.

"It's the product of Ray not being there to wake me up seven times a night and getting a good cup of coffee in."

. . .

"_I hate mornings."_

"_You hate a lot of things- me included."_

"_I have never said that… out loud."_

John blinked. He shook his head, checked his surroundings, and blinked again. _Why_ was he in the middle of a Scotti forest? If he was right, that was Wolf Peak to the North, and the trail looked like the one he and his… brothers, per say… had mapped out for the Organization. And who was the chick walking next to him? She looked familiar- okay, John was lying. He'd never seen her before, but he felt like he'd been told enough about her to recognize her immediately.

What was her name again? Aryss? Amiss? Alyss? Yeah, that's it. Alyss. Will's lady friend from Redmont. The one he wanted to marry but couldn't because of the whole burning-down-an-inn-and-killing-a-crap-load-of-people thing. What that had to do with marriage, John wasn't quite sure. Will had never exactly enlightened him about the whole incident.

So why exactly was he walking with Will's lady friend on a path he hadn't been on in about two years? Walking, hiking, trudging. Whatever. It took him a moment, but John managed to remember. He was taking Will's lady friend back to Redmont and away from the whole war thing that was a war but not really. Translation: a headache three times the size of the one he'd gotten after he and Will drank too much in Iberian.

John snickered. There was _no way_ he (or Will) would be allowed back into that bar, let alone that town. Heck, there was a chance they might not even be allowed into the country…

"You're a real enigma, you know that?" Alyss said, interrupting his thoughts. John grinned.

"That's the plan." _That's been the plan for a good… I dunno… ten years?_

"You remind me of somebody I used to know. You're a lot like him- only a lot more extreme." John mentally snorted._ If you're talking about who I think you're talking about, then you obviously don't remember him the way I do. Then again, the Will Treaty I knew and the Will Treaty you knew are __very__ different._

"What happened to this 'somebody'?" John asked. He mentally slapped himself, considering he already knew the answer, but he figured this way he'd find out more about the man he'd considered a brother.

Alyss shrugged. "He died. Got shot with an arrow, went to sleep, and never woke up." John raised his eyebrows a bit. _That's it?_

"What was he like?"

"Kind. Brave. Stupid. Smart. Tricky." Alyss shrugged. _Gee, that's real helpful._

"An enigma of his own, huh? Yeah… that sounds like Will. That definitely sounds like Will…" Alyss stopped and stared at him. It took John a full minute to realize what he'd just said. "Oh shit. Did I just say that out loud?"

. . .

"Yes… yes, you did just say that out loud. And, well, you know I'd like some answers, Mr. Blunt." Alyss answered calmly. Which was pretty odd to her, considering the bomb shell John had dropped on her. Apparently, John had known Will. And as the pieces slowly fell into place, Alyss realized all the hints he'd dropped on her. The friend who'd taught him to love coffee. The friend who he considered a brother. The friend who died. **A. YEAR. AGO.**

_Will._ The friend had been Will.

_But… but how?_

John simply swallowed. He had an expression on his face that could only be described as a deer-in-the-headlights.

"Are you talking about Will Treaty? The Ranger who was killed while stopping a civil war in Nihon-Ja three years ago?" Alyss questioned, her voice cutting like a knife. She was tempted to pull her dagger on him, but she'd seen the way John threw knives. He had skill with the knife- his belt held four or five different knives. He probably could give the entire Ranger Corps a run for their money in a knife-fight.

John licked his lips nervously. He wasn't prepared for this. He'd promised, for Pete's sake! He'd promised that he wouldn't tell them! If White found out…

_Oh man. I'm screwed._

John clenched his jaw, looked at Alyss, then at his hands, then back at Alyss, and then back at his hands. _Too late now…_

"Yeah… yeah, I am talking about him. And…" John took a deep breath, "and you should know that he didn't die in Nihon-Ja."

Alyss closed her eyes and looked away. She could already feel the tears forming in her eyes. If John was saying what she thought he was saying, then Will had been alive when they left him behind in Nihon-Ja. They'd all assumed that he'd died while they were on their way home, based off of the date given on the letter's envelope. But _no._ "When?" She croaked.

John looked away guiltily. "About a year ago. A few miles away from the border- Scotti side."

Alyss felt a pain in her heart. _He'd been alive._ For _two years_ he'd been alive. Twenty-four months. 104 weeks. 730 days. 17,520 hours. He had been _alive._ Of course, now it didn't matter. He was still dead. "And when were you planning on telling me this?" She asked.

John didn't reply. He couldn't. But Alyss got the message. He hadn't planned on telling her. He was going to keep them in the dark.

She remembered Halt and Pauline planning on visiting Nihon-Ja. They were going to go- confirm his death, see where he was buried, and make sure the Nihon-Jan had preserved his memory properly. They never got to it. _But what if they had gone?_

Would Shigeru have told them the exact same thing in the letter? That Will was dead? Or would he have looked at them like they'd lost their minds and tell them Will was alive? That he'd left Nihon-Ja months ago and had been heading home on his own?

"Did the Emperor know?" She asked, turning to stare John directly in the eyes.

"That he was alive?" John asked. Alyss nodded. "Yeah… look, Alyss, I can't tell you. I just can't tell you everything. This war isn't being fought what you think it is. In some ways, you could say this war is being fought over Will's death. I'll tell you eventually- but not here. White has goons out here- he killed Will and he'll kill you and me and _everyone and anyone_ if they know too much." John told her, suddenly looking over his shoulder very paranoid. "Oh shit. Damn- just _once_ I'd like to be wrong!" He muttered.

A man dressed in very fine clothing stepped out from the shadows. He wore spectacles and carried a saber at his hip. His hair was kept in a ponytail at the back of his head. Knowledge practically oozed off of him. Along with hostility and that feeling you get when the bad guy starts their well-planned out monologue. Seven other men stepped out of the shadows, surrounding them. They wore armor, cloaks, and all were armed with various weapons. They looked a lot like something the bad guy would use to kick the crap out of James Bond.

"You know, you're right Mr. Blunt. Mr. White _will_ kill anyone who knows too much." Gillroy Garrow said with an amused smirk, hands crossed behind his back, and _definitely_ pulling off the 'I'm-an-evil-mastermind-don't-question-me-or-I'll-castrate-you-before-you-can-say-ouch.'

**. . .**

**::sighs:: I'm really not pleased with this…**

**ONE THING: I was going through reviews and suddenly realized: OH CRAP! I NEVER ADDRESSED THAT! A reviewer asked how John killed so many guys with one knife. I never quite got to it, but I was going to add that he carried a turd load of knives on him. It just completely slipped my mind. Now, I've remembered, and I **_**kinda**_** explained.**

**ANYWAY…**

**The beginning seemed good, but it just went downhill from there. Honestly, John wasn't supposed to have his slip of the tongue until later...**

**Before anyone gets mad- Jonathen Blunt has a very bad potty-mouth. And to be honest, he's only going to get worst… But, that's why the story is rated T.**

**Anyway, maybe now that school is out and such I might be able to update more. Who knows? The Treaty kids (see Shattered) have really been bugging me lately. Someone suggested writing a series for them, and I **_**really**_** like the idea. Who knows? Heck, I might even start posting chapters for **_**Hero**_** again… you know, pull it off of hold and go back and forth for updates between three different stories. I don't know. We'll see.**

**-Sharkbait**


	10. Chapter 10

**-enter your choice of disclaimer here- (it's not mine, it's not ever going to be mine, I'm not making any money)**

**WOAH. That's all I gotta say: WOAH. Right after I published the last chapter, I went to bed. When I woke up the next day, I checked my email and BAM! I got smacked in the face with a filled inbox! YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME. Because of that, I'm giving you THIS (another chapter for **_**Scarred)**_** and two other things. IF YOU WANT TO BE ABLE TO CHOOSE THOSE OTHER TWO THINGS, MAKE SURE YOU READ MY END NOTE.**

**. . .**

_"That he was alive?" John asked. Alyss nodded. "Yeah… look, Alyss, I can't tell you. I just can't tell you everything. This war isn't being fought what you think it is. In some ways, you could say this war is being fought over Will's death. I'll tell you eventually- but not here. White has goons out here- he killed Will and he'll kill you and me and everyone and anyone if they know too much." John told her, suddenly looking over his shoulder very paranoid. "Oh shit. Damn- just once I'd like to be wrong!" He muttered._

_A man dressed in very fine clothing stepped out from the shadows. He wore spectacles and carried a saber at his hip. His hair was kept in a ponytail at the back of his head. Knowledge practically oozed off of him. Along with hostility and that feeling you get when the bad guy starts their well-planned out monologue. Seven other men stepped out of the shadows, surrounding them. They wore armor, cloaks, and all were armed with various weapons. They looked a lot like something the bad guy would use to kick the crap out of James Bond._

_"You know, you're right Mr. Blunt. Mr. White will kill anyone who knows too much." Gillroy Garrow said with an amused smirk, hands crossed behind his back, and definitely pulling off the 'I'm-an-evil-mastermind-don't-question-me-or-I'll-castrate-you-before-you-can-say-ouch.'_

. . .

As soon as Garrow, as everyone _except_ Will Treaty called him, stepped out of the trees, John had drawn a knife from what seemed to be virtually nowhere. Sure, he was abandoning the whole criminal gig, but that didn't mean he was abandoning the training drilled into him by his parents and brother before… _that._

"Friends of yours?" Alyss asked as she drew her own dagger. John shrugged.

"More or less." He replied. They moved back to back, Alyss armed with her shiny dagger, John with a throwing knife in each hand. He had dozens of them hidden throughout his persona. Three in his left boot, one in each sleeve, four along his belt, countless hidden in his cloak, one hidden in his collar, three in his satchel, the list went on and on. He didn't even dare try to count them all.

As soon as the other seven stepped out completely from the shadows and he got a good look at them all, John's mind went into overdrive.

_Eight men- including Garrow. _

_One armed with short range bow held with familiarity and partially drawn. We'll call him Jim and make him our first priority._

_A set of twins each armed with a sword- __not__ a saber. Held with partial nervousness. They're familiar with the weapon but terrified. Bo and Jo- don't worry about them __yet._

_Four left. Two armed with various knives. Screw Jim- they're first priority. Uh… Ben and Jerry. Yeah, Ben and Jerry. When deciding to attack, pivot on the right foot and take a step with the left. Throw with the knife, duck and roll because Jerry… or maybe Ben… will have drawn and thrown at you. Come up immediately from the roll and thrown an underhandedly with your left._

_Other two- look like bodyguards for Garrow. Big, buff, and in need of a shower and/or shave. Probably used to intimidate people. Don't worry about them until Ben, Jerry, and Jim are prepared to be six feet under. Call them… Ugly and Harry._

_Garrow- he prefers not to get his hands dirty. Don't worry about him unless he charges. If he does, screw everyone else and __make sure you hit your target.__ Watch out for Alyss._

_Aim for Ben first, then continue for Jerry. Ready? GO!_

John pivoted on his right foot, turning to the left. As he did, his right hand swung the knife into the position needed to throw it. His hand instantly, reflexively, almost, went back towards his ear before following through in a fluid motion to send the knife spinning. The knife spun through the air with a familiar _whoosh_ sound before striking Ben dead center in the chest.

Immediately, Jerry went to throw at John. But, like many times before, John had seen it coming.

He ducked his head and rolled straight at Jerry, dodging an arrow that Jim had sent his way. While rolling, his left hand moved the knife into the position needed- hilt touching his forearm and blade facing out. As he came out of the role, his hand flicked out, sending the knife spinning in a fashion similar to what Rangers used to throw their saxes. The knife struck Jerry below the ribcage, the white cloth he wore for a shirt immediately starting to turn red. John didn't have time to pay much more attention- Jim fired an arrow at him, already drawing another one. John ducked again and rolled away.

As John rose out of his crouch, he jumped at Bo. Or maybe it was Jo. _Whatever._ He still charged at one of the twins, the knife he kept in his left sleeve slipping out of its holster. The knife slid down enough for John to grab the hilt and ram it into the kid's stomach. Immediately, he brought his boot up and kicked the kid back.

The other twin had engaged Alyss in combat, not expecting for her to be able to use the dagger very well. Every attack he launched, Alyss would flick back and keep up her defense. She could use the dagger well- but the other twin- Bo or Jo- knew how to use his sword. The kid almost beat her, but a throwing knife virtually appeared out of nowhere and struck the kid through the back.

The odd part, though, wasn't the knife. It was who'd _thrown_ the knife. John was dodging arrows and trying to get in a punch or two at Jim. So who'd thrown the knife…?

A shadow literally seemed to jump from a tree as it landed with its feet on Jim's shoulders. Both John and Alyss heard the sickening crack of bones as the shadow- who actually turned out to be a person- jumped away and towards Ugly. Jim's eyes glazed over as he crumpled, looking deformed in his broken state. Alyss was willing to be a _lot_ of money that the shadow had broken multiple rips and bones in the kids shoulders. Possibly his legs, too.

Ugly obviously wasn't prepared for an attack. So when the big, bulky bodyguard took a swing at the shadow, he obviously wasn't prepared for the shadow to use his fist against him. The shadow's hands took Ugly's hand and yanked him forward, a knife virtually appearing from _nowhere_. Ugly's momentum threw him forward and onto the knife. The shadow's hand let go of the knife, rolling backwards and next to Alyss.

John's eyebrows shot up. _"You!"_ He exclaimed, partially annoyed and partially angered. Alyss finally got a good look at the shadow.

They wore all black- explaining the shadow thing. Multiple knives were strapped to his chest in a large X. A quiver of arrows poked out from the shadow's shoulder, along with a longbow. What looked like a saxe knife and throwing knife were in a double scabbard at the shadow's waste. To be honest, the shadow looked like a paranoid Ranger dressed for a funeral.

She didn't know what the shadow's face looked like- they wore their hood up, casting a shadow that covered their face. She suspected there was a cowl in there, too.

All that was left of Garrow's henchmen was Garrow himself and Harry. The shadow launched themselves at Harry, latching onto the fist Harry had thrown in defense.

John, on the other hand, went straight for Garrow. He knew very well he was out of his league here, but he had a thirst for revenge forming in his throat. _For Will._ The knife hidden in his right sleeve slipped out, and his left hand immediately grabbed it while his right went for the knife similar to a saxe at his hip. The Rangers had the right idea with the X-style defense, and John had every mind of using it.

Garrow reached for his own saber, coming up and nearly nabbing John in one stroke. He carried the blade with so much familiarity, he could probably beat just about _any_ swordsman in Araluen, minus his master/mentor. Saber clashed against knife, and who would win became obviously clear.

John, try as he might, was no match. Every attack he threw was parried by Garrow, right before the expert threw an attack of his own. John would just barely manage to block.

Alyss, throughout all of this, fought off Bo or Jo- whichever twin it was that the shadow _hadn't_ killed.

The shadow fought Harry in hand to hand combat, using techniques that looked strangely Nihon-Jan. All in all, the shadow could probably take down Harry easily if he wanted, beat the crap out of Garrow, and make Bo or Jo eat their own sword. Of course, that was soon to be proven true. The shadow switched techniques and went for the old fashion knee to the crotch. Harry went down, and the shadow reached for his shoulder where a knife came loose and sent it spinning at Bo or Jo. The knife struck the kid in the shoulder, and just for emphasis, Alyss jabbed the kid in the stomach. He went down, leaving Garrow.

That's when the shadow spoke.

"_Take one more step, and you'll be dead before it's finished."_

The voice was deep, slightly muffled, and had a few problems pronouncing different words. But the threat still stood. Garrow dropped his saber and smirked evilly at the shadow. "Oh really? Let's test that-"

Of course, John still stood in front of him. He was a Blunt- they don't have a sense of honor. So, that being said, he had no regrets when he basically killed an unarmed man. _"Told you."_ The shadow said again. A smirk could be heard in his voice.

"Uh… John?" Alyss asked. Sure, she was still mad at John and would probably ditch him as soon as she got down the mountain and immediately try to find out what happened to Will, but that didn't mean she couldn't ask him a simple question. "Who's this?"

John sighed. The shadow jumped up, grabbed a branch from one of the hanging trees, and basically disappeared. Alyss, and John if he were honest, had no idea where he went. "That… well, that was the Masked Rider. Dangerous guy, and it's best not to ask too many questions about him."

. . .

The Librarian sighed. He _really_ wasn't looking forward to this. Alan hated him enough- and now he basically going to take complete control over the Organization.

_We need a better name…_

Cracking his neck and knuckles, the Librarian rapped sharply on Alan's door. He probably should've done it the day before- you know, when Will was still at the Mansion, but he needed to plan everything first.

_We really need better names… why can't I be called… I don't know… the Sage? The Librarian sounds really stupid…_

Someone yelled something from inside before the door was angrily yanked open by a disheveled Alan Clark. Expecting someone else, Alan wrinkled his nose as if to say _"Ugh, you. What the hell do you want?"_

Which is exactly what he proceeded to say. "Ugh, you. What the hell do you want?" The Librarian resisted an eye roll.

"Fine, I guess I'll go speak to someone else about The Founder's wants and needs…" He replied, turning to leave. Alan's eyebrows shot up, right before he grabbed the Librarian by the shoulder and yanked him inside.

_We need better names and a new 'field commander.' This one has no manners. And The Founder? __Really?__ That's the best we could come up with…?_

The door was slammed shut, locked, and the Librarian suddenly found himself trapped in the room with Alan. Alan had a twitchy look, and honestly looked like he was resisting the urge to yell and scream at the Librarian.

_Well this isn't awkward._

"Uhhh… I wasn't prepared for this." The Librarian said simply, eyebrows raised and pretty much shocked.

"What does he want? What does The Founder want? Are you finally going to tell me who he is? Does he want to work with me? _TELL ME."_ Alan shot off questions like a giddy fanboy, and the Librarian suspected he'd been holding this in for _quite_ a while.

"Uhh… okay then. First off… no, I'm not going to tell you who he is… and, uh… he kinda sorta maybe wants to work with you? Actually, he figures now is the best time to take down White, so… he kinda sorta maybe wants me to take control until further notice…"

_This isn't how I planned for things to go…_

"_WHAT?"_ Alan hissed. "Wait, you mean we're _finally_ going to take that bastard down?"

The Librarian nodded, honestly expecting for Alan to react violently and attack him and laugh in his face or something. He'd planned on having Anna drug his coffee and kill him… not that Will would approve. "Yeah… wait, so you're not mad that I'm supposed to take charge for a while?" Alan looked at him oddly.

"You were supposed to react violently and force me to have Anna drug you…" The Librarian said, suddenly rubbing his chin oddly. "Damn. Guess she got the belladonna for nothing…"

"Wait… what? So you were planning on killing me?" Alan suddenly asked, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife kept at his hip. The Librarian nodded.

"I'm John Blunt's older brother. What'd you expect?"

. . .

**So… that was that. Oh, and one thing: ALAN CLARK AND ANTHONY BLUNT WERE COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY IN CHARACTER THERE. IT'LL MAKE SENSE LATER. I SWEAR IT WILL. You could say that they're old friends or something… so expect Alan to freak out be like "ANTHONY! OH MY GOD, IT'S YOU! IT'S YOU, IT'S YOU, IT'S YOU!" and be all fanboy-ish again.**

**You guys, again, are awesome. And because of your awesomeness, I am going to post two things NEXT SATURDAY. It was going to be tomorrow, but my computer wouldn't let me log in to fanfiction and I'm not going to have computer access next week. You guys get to choose. Here's your choices:**

**~Another chapter of **_**Shattered.**_

**+Restart production of **_**Hero.**_

**-Publish the rewritten and improved version of **_**Heaven Was Needing A Hero**_** (the prequel to **_**Shattered)**_

**=A small little one-shot for RA. If you have any ideas of a specific want, suggest it in a review. IT CANNOT BE SOMETHING THAT WILL LATER BE EXPANDED. ONE SHOT AND ONE SHOT ONLY. I DO **_**NOT**_** WANT (or need…) ANOTHER STORY FOR ME TO JUGGLE.**

**I will NOT be posting another chapter for this story. I've been ignoring everything else for a bit, so it's time I give **_**Scarred**_** the cold shoulder. Go ahead and vote for what you want in a review, but remember **_**SCARRED IS NOT AN OPTION.**_

'**Kay. Y'all stay awesome.**

**-Sharkbait**


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